Time was when I was free as air, <br />The thistle's downy seed my fare, <br />My drink the morning dew; <br />I perch'd at will on every spray, <br />My form genteel, my plumage gay, <br />My strains for ever new. <br />But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, <br />And form genteel were all in vain, <br />And of a transient date; <br />For, caught and caged, and starved to death, <br />In dying sighs my little breath <br />Soon pass’d the wiry grate. <br />Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes, <br />And thanks for this effectual close <br />And cure of every ill! <br />More cruelty could none express; <br />And I, if you had shown me less, <br />Had been your prisoner still.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-goldfinch-starved-to-death-in-his-cage/
